I'm no Eli Stone.
I am a doctor however and I receive my memo from the Department of God somewhat differently. No harps, halos or heavenly choirs.
All about a man and a baby...
Comes in a form of an elderly gentleman bearing a baby. You see, last year almost exactly to the date, I had a surprise knock on my door while I was on-call. It happened during the wee hours of the morning at about 4 in the morning. Just dropped into runs of REM when I was rudely woken up by a disembodied whisper from the door.
Disembodied Nurse : Doctor, there's a lady in labour in Bed 8.
Not a shocker in the hospital. Certainly not a surprise in the maternity wing.
But in the intensive care unit? Hell, I seriously thought I was dreaming. Scrambled out of bed in my scrubs with my bed hair, hurried over to Bed 8 only to see my semi-sedated patient ( hitherto supposedly concussed with a head bleed ) bearing down with all her might with lil tufts of hair already appearing... way down there.
It was a baby. My first thought was fuck. My last delivery was 5 years back minimum but that certainly didn't stop me. Don't even remember yelling for the delivery set but I do remember grabbing a pair of sterile gloves somewhere.
Wildly premature, desperately ill... and honestly I never thought he would make it. Obviously I was wrong since the father came by yesterday and the obviously healthy baby babbled an audible greeting. And there was my name on his birth cert.
Isn't life indeed wonderful?